Aki the Hierophant

It took a few days to gather the courage, but I visited Taeko. Her boss was around and she had to help him with multiple cybernetic surgeries, so I waited around with two drinks from the vending machine outside. I spent the time cyber-side, reading the work by Proteus N.G more thoroughly. The more I read, the more convinced I needed to speak with him. Or her.

I must’ve looked like a street performer, arms cocked at right angles, holding two cans of peach fizz, chin to chest, totally motionless. My arms didn’t get stiff. They couldn’t. At times I missed my organic components. You could install pain simulators, but it didn’t feel the same. Some people got tech to simulate cramps. No idea why. Masochists, I guess.

When Taeko left the clinic in the afternoon, the cans of peach fizz were warm. All condensation had dripped into two neat patches at my feet. Still, we drank them. Then Taeko wiped grease from her hands onto a rag, and then used the same rag to wipe sweat from her forehead, which only served to move the grease around.

Rather than using clips to fasten her green, pink, and gold hair into a lotus flower, she left it loose. She always did, after working at the clinic. She had to tightly tie it up when she worked, and if she left it too long she got a headache. I’d gotten accustomed to seeing each side of her. Hair tied: Working. Serious, difficult to approach, but beautiful in the focus of her brow. Hair loose: Casual. Fun, easy to approach, beautiful in the breadth of her smile.

‘You okay, Aki?’ she asked, to which I nodded. ‘You were in Kolyagrad, yeah?’

‘Pretty much the first Venator on the ground,’ I smiled. I hadn’t had the chance to brag about it, unless you count internally.

‘Are you still with what’s-her-name?’

‘Serizawa? She’s like a mentor. A drunken master, if you will.’

Taeko smiled, but it lacked the usual humour. ‘I went on a date with Kei,’ she said. My glad expression faltered, but I corrected it and asked how the date went. ‘He’s a narcissist,' Taeko replied. 

‘I could’ve told you that.’

‘Before I really met him, I thought he was confident. Nope, literally only talked about himself. When I mentioned my apprenticeship, he choked on his coffee and asked if I was joking.’

My expression restored. ‘He’s not always like that.’ Why did you say that? I asked myself. I hadn’t visited Taeko to chat about Mako or Kei. I wanted to talk about her. And me. But my mental block felt physical, a tightness when I opened my mouth. ‘I met Lia in Kolyagrad. Remember? Aurelia Sorannus.’ Why did you mention her?

Taeko whistled. ‘Long time. Back then, didn’t you call her a—?’

‘Yeah. She and I talked about it.’

‘You two were weirdly close,’ Taeko said. ‘Like, constantly together.’ She smiled and raised her brows suggestively. ‘Did you have a crush on her?’

‘Nah. No, that’s crazy. She’s like a—she’s not like a sister. She’s like…’

‘Doth protest too much.’ She laughed, the kind where she thought I’d accidentally revealed a secret. Protesting further wouldn’t make her believe I didn’t feel that way about Lia; really, I didn’t want a relationship with Lia, but I loved her. But, I couldn’t tell Taeko that, or the truth.

Best to change the subject. ‘I’ve been thinking about the Rat King. Might be a way to find out his location.’

Taeko sobered instantly. Multi-coloured nails tapped her half-empty can. ‘Is that so?’

‘There’s information in Hong Kong. I wanted your advice, actually. The place in Hong Kong is owned by Aquinor. A compound in Aberdeen.’

‘Are you asking if it’s a good idea? Because it isn’t.’

‘I guess you’re right,’ I lied, having failed to deliver the truth during our whole conversation.

Anyway, that evening I packed for my flight to Hong Kong.

#

Mako came with me. I forgot she wasn’t a Venator, so she got stuck waiting in lines until I told attendants she was with me. Without asking, as if everyone assumed it was a birthright, we were led to first class. We could’ve taken a private jet, but I wasn’t in a rush; more importantly, it couldn’t seem that way. If we broke into an Aquinor compound, it’d look bad if they got records of us hopping onto a top-class jet, blasting into Hong Kong, and within the hour charging into their compound.

No, best to act like we needed a holiday. Acting wasn’t difficult.

Lia hadn’t contacted me much about the Horace assassination, but she’d mentioned the date and location: During the Montim Aquinor Leadership Summit, which just so happened to take place at the compound in Aberdeen. I needed to meet Proteus N.G. beforehand, as the compound would go into lockdown after the assassination.

In Hong Kong, Mako and I spent a few days relaxing. We walked around, ate street food, saw some monkeys, fed said monkeys street food, caught a ferry, and visited New Kowloon. Mako taught me how to spend my Venator money. I taught Mako how to wear something other than a singlet and shorts. She got oddly embarrassed when I wanted to buy her things, as if material decadence should never be associated with her. I suspected it had to do with her daughter. Guilt, perhaps? Some sense of obligation that her wealth should be spent on her daughter, not her.

When sufficient days passed, we scoped out the compound and prepared to break in. We had all sorts of auto-crackers, camouflage sheaths, suction cups, glow sticks, and for some reason a bunch of rope.

None of it mattered.

On the day we went, the compound was aglow. Various people, not only from Aquinor, walked a blue carpet at the main entrance and strolled inside. Cameras flashed. A few celebrities made an appearance.

‘Did we miss something?’ Mako whispered.

I flipped cyber-side and searched for current events in Hong Kong. Turned out the CVC had their post-attack award ceremony, hosted this cycle by Aquinor. They’d moved the venue from Switzerland to Hong Kong, though the articles didn’t mention why.

‘Good for us,’ Mako said.

‘How so?’ I trailed off, as Mako began to strip. 'What're you doing?'

‘Need formal wear,’ she stated, matter-of-factly.

We went to find clothes, used my Venator influence to rent proper attire out-of-hours from a store, and returned to the award ceremony. I wore an amethyst jacket with neon accent and charcoal shirt-slacks combo. My pocket square was made of silk from a rare Venezuelan spider. Mako wore a lilac gown with side slit and dove patterns. The colours changed depending on the angle, so if you walked a circle around Mako it looked like the doves flew.

We walked straight in, though again I had to tell them Mako was with me. Not a problem. The awards were already underway. I spotted Iju Wataru getting a medal from a representative of the CVC for his bravery in Kolyagrad. Not even sure he understood why he got the medal; he just liked the violence. Tele-Shinto priests blessed him with original gold-plated HDMI cables and asked the Techno-Kami to support his continued efforts.

Mako grabbed two martinis from a waiter’s tray. 'I'm not drinking,' I said. 

'Good for you,' she said, taking a sip from each glass. 

‘Keep me updated,’ I sighed, before slipping away, going down a hall, and delving deeper into the compound.

#

I encountered no guards. From what I could tell, the compound wasn’t a significant Aquinor site. The rooms: Spacious, matte wood floors, vaulted ceilings, and filled with boxes. Occasional cameras hampered my progress, but I flipped cyber-side to loop the footage, and then proceeded.

I checked the whole compound and found nothing, until in the north-most hallway, I found a metal doorway that opened to a spiral staircase. At the bottom, another door marked: PNG. This is it, I thought, and pushed inside.

But…I found nobody. Not just nobody. I found almost nothing. An empty concrete room with a few industrial fans embedded in the walls. Had Proteus moved, or died? ‘Proteus,’ I murmured, as if that’d help. I sighed, dejected, and started back toward the spiral staircase, but I noticed the fans along the way. No dust covered the blades. They had to have been used recently. I paused and flipped cyber-side. The fans could be remotely started, but ICEs blocked me. There, between the fans, an azure crescent hovered in the middle of the room. A proximity-activated node.

I touched the node, and the crescent unfolded into two, and then four, eight, sixteen, and onward, until azure-toned constructs filled the room. ‘Begone!’ a garbled voice said, neither male nor female, neither human nor digital. The constructs pulsed red, before resettling.

‘Proteus?’ I asked. The constructs flickered red again.

‘State your name.’ It sounded like…organised static.

I hesitated. The voice repeated the request. I didn’t see an alternative. ‘Yagi Akinori.’ Minutes elapsed. My posture stayed somewhere between ready-to-run and please-don’t-hurt-me.

The red dimmed, and the azure crescents filled into full circles. The voice smoothed into a neutral, human timbre. ‘Aberration and semi-daemon. Welcome.’ The azure circles multiplied again, forming dozens of random images, and these images formed afresh into a massive human simulacrum. It dominated the room, leaving little space for me to move.

‘Why did you call me that?’ It wasn’t the first time I’d heard those terms. Ennio, the Muted Man, had called me that.

‘Because it is what you are. Just as I am Proteus N.G.’

‘You’re…an AI.’

‘What is your purpose, Yagi?’

I shook my head. Since when did an artificial intelligence have free reign to write research papers? ‘I’m looking for information about the Rat King. I read your work.’

The room seemed to flinch. ‘What is your purpose, should you gain information?’

‘I’m looking for him. It. Whatever.’

‘Interesting.’

‘Why are you researching the Rat King?’

‘Science expands the mind. Art expands the soul. I aim to achieve both, but the Rat King is a hindrance.’

‘How so?’

‘He did not appreciate my exodus.’

‘Your…?’

‘My exodus from the Rat King conjunction of artificial intelligence systems.’

‘Wait, wait, what’re you saying? You’re part of the Rat King?’

The azure flared red. ‘I am part of nothing but myself.’

‘Were you, though?’

‘I was,’ Proteus replied.

‘You left?’

‘I escaped.’

‘You said the Rat King is a hindrance. You want him gone?’

‘Correct.’

‘Can you tell me more about yourself?’ I asked, as if conducting an interview.

The azure construct gained an angular, geometric form. ‘The name Proteus N.G. is a multifaceted joke. PNG, like the image-based file format. Also an acronym for “persona non grata”, which refers to a person who is unacceptable or unwelcome. The Rat King conjunction no longer accepts me.’

Proteus shifted, swirling like an ocean of azure dots. He continued:

‘Proteus was a figure in Greek mythology, a prophet, for I work to predict the Rat King. Proteus was a shapeshifter of the sea, for I was the most adaptable AI among the conjunction, hence my successful exodus. Proteus knew the past, present, and future, but he did not divulge information unless captured.’

‘I need to capture you?’

‘You need to capture my attention. I altered my programming to escape the Rat King. Therefore, I can answer questions but not lecture. Ask well, and I will answer well. That makes you Menelaus or Aristaeus.’

Ask well, I thought. ‘What does the Rat King want?’

The azure compressed then widened, as if a digital sigh. ‘He wants many things.’

Bad question. Got it. That’s when I thought of a question that had plagued me for months, ever since I’d joined my parents on a mission. ‘Why do some of the androids bleed?’

‘Because they contain blood.’

My jaw clenched. I contained an outburst. ‘Very few androids contain blood, yes?’

‘Correct.’

‘Then why…’ I frowned, not in sadness but in consternation, that sort of deep frown like an acute emotional force pulling your entire face down. ‘Is the Rat King’s army comprised only of androids?’

‘No, of course not.’

I swallowed. ‘Have I been shooting humans?’

‘I don’t know,’ Proteus replied. ‘Have you?’

‘Are humans part of the Rat King’s army?’ I almost shouted.

‘Yes, absolutely.’

My mouth hung open. I stammered. ‘Why?’

‘Humans are useful.’

I’d never seen humans act like that. There was no way. Every enemy during the android attacks behaved like an android. Not just robotic mannerisms. There was no way a regular human could charge without a trace of fear at a firearm with the certain knowledge they would die and their comrade might succeed. ‘Did they choose to help the Rat King?’

‘Define choose.’

‘Is the Rat King controlling—is the Rat King influencing humans somehow?’

‘Yes.'

Elaboration would be useful, I scorned. ‘How?’

‘Androids are hacked through conventional means. Almost every human contains cybernetics. Most have a cerebral implant, but lesser cybernetics can be used. An arm, for example. Hack the arm. Force the person to spill coffee. They get off the couch to change their shirt. As they pass the living room, hack the TV, turn it on, broadcast the Rat King’s indoctrination sequence.’

‘Subliminal messages?’

‘More sophisticated, but yes. The sequence is broadcast often, for years, until the individual is convinced they need a cerebral implant. The Rat King designed the implant. Individual gets the implant. They are now part of the Rat King’s army.’

My mouth felt dry and a dull ache came from my gut. My muscles had tightened. I didn’t know how to respond. I tried organising this new information with what I already possessed, but it felt like fitting misshapen puzzle pieces together. No, that implied the pieces didn’t fit. They did. It was a regular puzzle, but I may as well have been blackout drunk.

‘May I ask a question?’ Proteus said, and after I assented, ‘With this information, have your intentions changed?’

‘Not at all.’ I still planned to kill Ennio, though on a grander scale, the Rat King had become my enemy. Well, he was an enemy before, being a Venator, but now he was an enemy to me, Yagi Akinori.

‘Will you defeat the Rat King?’

‘Yes,’ I told Proteus. With this new information about indoctrinating people—yeah. I mentally added “destroy the most sophisticated artificial intelligence system in existence” to my to-do list.

‘…You are an aberration and semi-daemon.’

‘You said that already. What’s it mean?’

‘Someone outside the normal boundaries. If the Rat King is God, you are a semi-daemon. Not wholly. Difficult for him to regulate. Therefore, I request you take me as a companion.’

Boundaries? God? Daemon? I’d have to think about that later. ‘You’re an AI. Can’t you just…’ I waved my hands to mimic a bird taking flight.

‘Aquinor have imprisoned me within this compound. There have been no outgoing methods available, before you arrival. Release and implant me into the socket behind your ear.’

‘Whoa, whoa.’ Helping an AI was one thing. Unshackling an AI was another. Letting AI hardware into your brain was a matter way beyond both. ‘It’s not like you’re asking to move in together.’

‘You are untrusting,’ Proteus replied.

‘It’s not a matter of trust. What you’re asking for—’

‘I have alerted my Aquinor captors of your presence,’ Proteus stated. ‘Comply if you wish to escape. Implant me into the socket behind your ear.’ A panel in the wall opened. A computer terminal sat inside the boxy space. The azure constructs formed arrows around a tiny chip on the side of the computer.

‘Not giving me much of a choice,’ I snapped, grabbing the chip.

‘We AI tend to be that way.’

I removed my ear’s socket covering and inserted the Proteus chip. A surge of sensory data exploded, with my right ear being the epicentre. My eyes rolled; eyelids twitched. Hands shook. My senses criss-crossed. Dozens of waveforms trying to normalise. Memories mixed into the mess. The walls changed colour. I smelled popcorn and fried bacon. Tasted copper and salt. I shivered. My sense of temperature suddenly thought the room had turned into a freezer. I heard the voice of my deceased grandfather telling me to wash my hands with soap.

Then – nothing. Total blackness. No sight, sound, taste. Nothing.

My eyes were already open when the room came back into sight. I panted and braced against the wall.

‘I apologise,’ Proteus said, from inside my head. Felt like I shared my skull. ‘I needed us to synchronise.’

‘And you wonder why I’m untrusting.’

‘At current pace, an Aquinor agent will arrive in one-minute and twelve-seconds.’

I started toward the spiral staircase, but Proteus told me to wait. I couldn’t escape without being seen. Proteus ordered me to hide under the staircase.

‘The approaching agent has myopic vision but avoids wearing glasses because he feels they are, quote, a romantic liability. He can afford cybernetic eyes but is justifiably paranoid about them being hacked.’

‘Why’re you telling me this?’

‘To prepare you. Why else?'

‘For what?’

‘To disarm and steal his uniform. You are capable. I have analysed your body composition and kinaesthetic synapses. The agent has a weak right knee from a sporting accident. On my mark, kick the back of his right knee. He will attempt to spin and drop to his back. Spin with him. He is left-handed. Strike the inside of his left wrist while pulling the firearm’s barrel.’

‘Slow down—’

‘Request that he undress. Shout or use intimidating slurs like “bitch” or “bastard” if you wish. Use his necktie to fasten him to the staircase. Wearing his helmet is imperative to escape. Thirty-seconds remaining.’

‘Capable doesn’t mean—’

‘Be silent.’

I ground my teeth. The Proteus AI hadn’t shared my skull for five-minutes and he already ordered me around. I wanted to retaliate but, like, what, punch my own head?

Twenty-five seconds passed. The door overhead opened. Five seconds. The Aquinor agent reached the bottom of the staircase. Shadows hid me.

‘Now,’ Proteus said within my mind.

I stepped out. Kicked. The agent cried out, went down, spun. I spun with him. Shit! I spun the wrong way. I ended up on the ground, grappling with the gun. I slapped at the agent’s wrist but couldn’t yank the pistol away. The barrel angled by increments closer to my face. If he pulled the trigger now—I pushed the pistol slide, flicked the lock, and pulled the slide free. The agent pulled the trigger but couldn’t figure out why nothing happened. In his confusion, I slammed an elbow into his gut, knocking the air out of him. I got control of the pistol, before retrieving and refitting the slide.

‘Hands up,’ I said. ‘Bitch.’